Falling Kingdoms

  Limeros was a devoutly religious land whose people clung to their belief in the goddess Valoria, especially in hard times, but Magnus privately thought those who relied on their belief in the supernatural, in any form it took, showed an inner weakness.

  Most of those who believed, anyway. He did make an exception for a precious few. He directed his gaze to the right of his father, where his sister sat dutifully, the guest of honor at this banquet touted as being in celebration of her birthday.

  The dress she wore tonight was a pinkish orange shade that made him think of a sunset. It was a new dress, one he’d never seen her in before, and beautifully made, reflecting the image of eternal richness and perfection his father demanded the Damora family show—although even he had to admit he was surprised by how colorful it was in the sea of gray and black his father tended to prefer.

  The princess had pale, flawless skin and long silky dark hair that, when it wasn’t pulled into a tidy twist, fell to her waist in soft waves. Her eyes were the color of the clear blue sky. Her lips were full and naturally rosy. Lucia Eva Damora was the most beautiful girl in all of Limeros. Without a single exception.

  Suddenly, the glass goblet in Magnus’s tight grip shattered and cut his hand. He swore, then grabbed for a napkin to bind the wound. Lady Sophia and Lord Lenardo looked at him with alarm, as if disturbed that it might have been their conversation of betrothals and murder that had upset him.

  It was not.

  Stupid, so stupid.

  The thought was reflected by the look on his father’s face—he hadn’t missed a thing. His mother, Queen Althea, seated to the king’s left, also took notice. She immediately averted her cool gaze to continue the conversation with the woman seated next to her.

  His father didn’t look away. He glared at him as if embarrassed to be in the same room. Clumsy, insolent Prince Magnus, the king’s heir. For now, anyway, he thought sourly, his mind flashing briefly to Tobias, his father’s…“right-hand man.” Magnus wondered if there would ever come a day when his father would approve of him. He supposed he should be grateful the king even bothered to invite him to this event. Then again, he wanted to make it seem as if the royal family of Limeros was a tight-knit and strong unit—now and always.

  What a laugh.

  Magnus would have already left frigid, colorless Limeros to leisurely explore the other realms that lay across the Silver Sea, but there was one thing that kept him right where he was, even now that he was on the cusp of turning eighteen.

  “Magnus!” Lucia had rushed to his side and knelt next to him. Her attention was fully focused on his hand. “You’ve hurt yourself.”

  “It’s nothing,” he said tightly. “Just a scratch.”

  Blood had already soaked through the meager binding. Her brows drew together with concern. “Just a scratch? I don’t think so. Come with me and I’ll help bandage it properly.”

  She pulled at his wrist.

  “Go with her,” Lady Sophia advised. “You don’t want an infection to set in.”

  “No, wouldn’t want that.” His jaw set. The pain wasn’t enough to bother him, but his embarrassment did sting. “Fine, my sister, the healer. I’ll let you patch me up.”

  She gave him a comforting smile that made something inside him twist. Something he tried very hard to ignore.

  Magnus didn’t cast another glance at either his father or his mother as he left the banquet hall. Lucia led him into an adjoining room, one that was chillier without the body heat of the banquet guests. Hanging, muted tapestries did little to warm the cold stone walls. A bronze bust of King Gaius glared at him from a tall stand between granite pillars, judging him sternly even now he’d left his father’s presence. She asked a palace maid to fetch a basin of water and bandages, then sat him down on a seat next to her and undid the napkin from his wound.

  He let her.

  “The glass was too fragile,” he explained.

  She raised an eyebrow. “So it just shattered for no reason at all, did it?”

  “Exactly.”

  She sighed, then dipped a cloth in the water and began to gently clean the wound. Magnus barely noticed the pain anymore. “I know exactly why this happened.”

  He tensed. “You do?”

  “It’s Father.” Her blue eyes flicked up to meet his. “You’re angry with him.”

  “And you think I imagined his neck in place of the stem of the glass like many of his subjects might?”

  “Did you?” She pressed down firmly on his hand to help stop the flow of blood.

  “I’m not angry with him. More like the other way around. He hates me.”

  “He doesn’t hate you. He loves you.”

  “Then he would be the only one.”

  A smile lit up her expression. “Oh, Magnus. Don’t be silly. I love you. More than anyone else in the whole world. You must know that, don’t you?”

  It felt as if someone had punched a hole through his chest and taken hold of his heart to squeeze it tightly. He cleared his throat and looked down at his hand. “Of course. And I love you too.”

  The words felt thick on his tongue. Lies always slid smooth as silk for him, but the truth was never quite so easy.

  How he felt for Lucia was only the love of a brother for his sister.

  That lie did feel smooth. Even when he told it to himself.

  “There,” she said, patting the bandage she’d wrapped around his hand. “All better.”

  “You really should be a healer.”

  “I don’t think our parents would consider that an occupation befitting a princess.”

  “You’re absolutely right. They wouldn’t.”

  Her hand was still on his. “Thank the goddess you weren’t hurt worse than this.”

  “Yes, thank the goddess,” he said dryly before his lips curved. “Your devotion to Valoria puts my own to shame. Always has.”

  She looked at him sharply, but her smile remained. “I know you think such strong beliefs in the unseen are silly.”

  “I’m not sure I’d use the word silly.”

  “Sometimes you need to try to believe in something bigger than yourself, Magnus. Something you can’t see or touch. To allow your heart to have faith no matter what. It’s what will give you strength in troubled times.”

  He watched her patiently. “If you say so.”

  Lucia’s smile widened. His pessimism had always amused her. They’d had this discussion many times before. “One day you’ll believe. I know you will.”

  “I believe in you. Isn’t that enough?”

  “Then I guess I should set a good example for my dear brother.” She leaned forward and brushed her lips against his cheek. His breath ceased completely for a moment. “I must return to the banquet. After all, it is supposed to be in my honor. Mother will be angry if I just disappear and never return.”

  He nodded and touched his bandage. “Thank you for saving my life.”

  “Hardly. But try to be careful with your temper while around breakable things.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  She gave him a last grin and hurried back into the great hall.

  Magnus remained where he was for several more minutes, listening to the buzz of conversation of the crowd of nobles at the banquet. He couldn’t seem to summon the energy or interest to go back in there. If anyone asked him tomorrow, he’d simply say that loss of blood had made him ill.

  He did feel ill. The way he felt about Lucia was wrong. Unnatural. And it was growing by the day even though he fought to ignore it. For a whole year he’d barely been able to look at any other noble girl—now at a time when his father was pressing him to choose a future wife.

  Soon the king would likely think that his son’s romantic taste was not for girls at all. Quite frankly, Magnus di
dn’t care much what he might think. Even if he did prefer boys, the king would still force him to marry someone of his choosing when his patience wore out.

  It would not be Lucia, not even in Magnus’s wildest fantasy. Such incestuous unions—even amongst royals—were forbidden by both law and religion. And if Lucia ever learned of the depth of his feelings for her, she’d be disgusted. He didn’t want the light in her eyes when she looked at him diminished in any way. That light was the only thing that gave him any joy at all.

  Everything else about this made him utterly miserable.

  A pretty young maid passed him in the cool, shadowy hall and glanced at him, pausing. She had gray eyes and hair the color of chestnuts, bound into a bun. Her woolen dress was faded but neat and unwrinkled. “Prince Magnus, is there anything I can do for you tonight?”

  While his beautiful sister’s very presence tortured him, he did allow himself a few meaningless distractions. Amia was extremely useful, in countless ways.

  “Not tonight, my sweet.”

  She moved closer, conspiratorially. “The king left the banquet and is meeting with Lady Mallius right now on the balcony, talking in hushed voices. Interesting, yes?”

  “Perhaps.”

  Amia had proved a useful tool over the last few months to learn tidbits of information. She was Magnus’s very willing eyes and ears here in the castle, and she had no qualms about eavesdropping for the prince whenever the opportunity called for it. The occasional kind word or the edge of a smile was enough to keep her loyal and eager to please. Amia believed he would keep her indefinitely as his mistress. In that she was destined to be disappointed. Unless the girl stood directly in front of him as she did right now, he tended to forget she existed.

  Magnus patted her on the waist, dismissing her, and silently moved toward the stone balcony that overlooked the black sea and the rocky cliffs on which the castle and the Limeros capital perched. It was his father’s favorite spot for reflection, despite the cutting winter chill on nights like this.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” the king hissed from the balcony. “It has nothing to do with such rumors. You’re being superstitious.”

  “What other explanation could there be?” another familiar voice said. Lady Sabina Mallius, the widow of the king’s former advisor. At least, that was her official title. Her unofficial title was the king’s mistress, a position she’d held for nearly two decades. The king didn’t keep this a secret from anyone, not the queen or his children.

  Queen Althea wordlessly tolerated his infidelity. Magnus wasn’t entirely sure the cold woman he called his mother cared one way or the other about what her husband did or whom he did it with.

  “What other explanation for Limeros’s difficulties?” the king said. “Plenty. And none of them are related to magic in any way.”

  Ah, Magnus thought. It seems as if the talk of peasants has also become a discussion for kings.

  “You don’t know that.”

  There was a long pause. “I know enough to doubt.”

  “If any of this strife is based in elementia, it means that we weren’t wrong. That I wasn’t wrong. That all these years haven’t been a waste as we’ve waited patiently for a sign.”

  “You saw the sign years ago. The stars told you what you needed to know.”

  “My sister saw the signs, not me. But I know she was right.”

  “It’s been sixteen years and nothing has happened. Only endlessly waiting. My disappointment grows with each day that passes.”

  She sighed. “I wish I knew for sure. All I have is my faith that you must only wait a short time longer.”

  The king laughed, but there was no humor to the sound. “How long should I wait before I choose to banish you to the forbidden mountains for such deception? Or perhaps I can think of a punishment more suitable to someone like you.”

  Sabina’s voice chilled. “I would advise you never to even consider such a thing.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  “It’s a warning, my love. The prophecy holds as true today as it did all those years ago. I still believe. Do you?”

  There was a long pause. “I believe. But my patience grows thin. It won’t be long before we’ve wasted away like Paelsia has and must also begin to live as poor peasants.”

  “Lucia is now sixteen. The time is drawing closer for her awakening, I know it is.”

  “Pray that you’re right. I’ll not take well to continued deception if you’re wrong, even from you, Sabina. And you know very well how I deal with disappointment.” There wasn’t a sliver of warmth in the king’s icy tone.

  Nor was there in Sabina’s. “I am right, my love. And you won’t be disappointed.”

  Magnus pressed up against the cold stone wall behind him so he wouldn’t be seen as his father left the balcony. His head was swimming with confusion over what he’d heard. This close to the balcony, his warm breath created frozen clouds in the cold night air. Sabina emerged shortly afterward and began to follow the king back to the banquet hall. But she stopped, tilted her head, then turned to look directly at Magnus.

  A chill went down his spine, but he kept his expression neutral.

  Sabina’s beauty had yet to fade—long, sleek dark hair, amber-colored eyes. She always dressed in shades of red, luxurious fabrics that hugged the curves of her body and that stood out amidst the more sober colors that most Limerians donned. Magnus had no idea how old a woman she was, nor did he give such issues much thought. She’d been around the palace since he was only an infant and always appeared exactly the same to him—cold, beautiful, timeless. Like a marble statue that lived and breathed, and expected the occasional tiresome conversation.

  “Magnus, my sweet boy.” A smile spread across her face. Her dark eyes, lined in black kohl, remained distrustful as if she’d guessed he’d been listening.

  “Sabina.”

  “Aren’t you enjoying yourself at the banquet?”

  “Oh, you know me,” he replied dryly. “I always enjoy myself.”

  Her lips curved as her eyes moved over his face. He felt an unpleasant tingle in the scar that traced his cheekbone. “Of course you do.”

  “If you’ll excuse me. I’m retiring for the evening to my chambers.” She didn’t move, and his eyes narrowed. “Go on, now. Wouldn’t want to keep my father waiting.”

  “No, wouldn’t want that. He hates to be disappointed.”

  He gave her a cold smile. “He does indeed.”

  Since she showed no signs of moving, Magnus turned from her and began walking leisurely down the hall. He felt her gaze hot on his back.

  The conversation he’d overheard echoed in his ears. His father and Sabina had made no sense at all. He’d heard talk of magic and prophesies. And all of it sounded dangerous. What secret did the king and Sabina know about Lucia? What awakening did they speak of? Was it just a silly joke they’d made up to amuse themselves on the event of her birthday? If they’d sounded remotely amused, he might give weight to this theory. But they had not. They sounded tense and concerned and angry.

  The same emotions swelled within Magnus’s chest. He cared for nothing in the world except Lucia. While the depth of his true feelings could never be revealed, he would do everything he could to protect her from those with the potential to do her harm. And now he put his father, the king—the coldest, deadliest, and most dangerous man he’d ever known—firmly in that category.

  Ioannes opened his eyes and took a deep breath of the sweet, warm air. The sun-warmed green grass worked well as his bed, and he pushed himself up into a sitting position. It took him a moment to come back fully into his own body since he’d been traveling without it for quite some time.

  He looked down at his hands—skin had replaced feathers. Fingernails had replaced talons. It always took getting used to.

  “
What did you see?”

  Perhaps he would not have as much time as he would like. Ioannes craned his neck to look at the one waiting for his return. Timotheus sat nearby on a carved stone bench, his legs crossed, his flowing white cloaks impeccable as always.

  “Nothing more than usual,” Ioannes said, although it was somewhat of a lie. He, and the others who traveled from this realm in this manner had agreed to discuss with each other their findings before taking any important information to the elders, who themselves could no longer transform into hawks.

  “No clues at all?”

  “Of the Kindred themselves? Nothing. There are as hidden today as they were a millennium ago.”

  Timotheus’s jaw clenched. “Our time grows shorter.”

  “I know.” If they did not find the Kindred, the wasting away that the mortal realm was experiencing would soon bleed over into the Sanctuary as well.

  The elders were uncertain how to proceed. So many centuries and nothing. No clues. No leads. Even paradise could become a prison if one had enough time to take notice of the walls.

  “However, there is a girl,” Ioannes said a bit reluctantly.

  This captured Timotheus’s attention. “A girl?”

  “She could be the one we’ve waited for. She has only now turned sixteen mortal years. I felt something from her—something is emerging that goes beyond anything I’ve sensed before.”

  “Magic?”

  “I believe so.”

  “Who is she? Where is she?”

  Ioannes hesitated. Despite his agreement with the others, he was duty bound to tell the elders what they wished to know—and he trusted Timotheus. But something about this felt fragile, like a small seedling that hadn’t yet taken root. If he was wrong, it would make him look a fool to raise an alarm. But if he was right, then the girl was incredibly precious and had to be treated gently.